


A Fox That Gains Our Trust

by mxnyardsfoxes



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Butcher Neil Josten, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Dark Jean Moreau, Dark Neil Josten, Enemies to Lovers, Faked character death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Murder, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, this is pretty dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxnyardsfoxes/pseuds/mxnyardsfoxes
Summary: After fourteen years spent being brought up to be the Moriyama's next Butcher, Nathaniel Wesninski and his mother fled Baltimore in favour of a life on the run - after all, anything was better than living with Nathaniel's father.A few years later, Nathaniel's mother was dead, he became 'Neil Josten', started playing Exy at Millport's high school, and eventually got recruited by the Palmetto State Foxes.But no fake identity lasts for long, and Nathaniel knows that better than anyone. Soon, 'Neil Josten' is dead, the Foxes are a fractured mess, and Nathaniel Wesninski returns to his father's side.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 17
Kudos: 47





	1. Californian Soil

**Author's Note:**

> i've had the idea for this fic since last august, but it's taken me so long to get started thanks to school and everything else, but! im finally starting to post it, if anything so that it motivates me to actually write it.  
> a few things before i start:  
> \- this fic has no posting schedule. i currently have eleven chapters of plot, and this chapter and some of the second one written. i dont have a clue how long it'll take to get chapters written, especially since a levels are a Lot of work, but please bear with me! im excited about this fic and determined to get it finished!  
> \- the first two chapters are going to be fairly similar to canon, with a few changes to suit this plot, but i needed to write it like this to set up the next events properly. things will start getting more interesting from chapter three !  
> and, the content warnings for this chapter. please let me know if ive missed any!  
> \- memories of murder (mentioned in a memory/dream at the start, and briefly recalled later)  
> \- implied abuse (mentions of kevin's life in the nest)  
> \- references to past injury, death, and violence (mostly in the italicised part at the beginning)  
> i think that's it! sorry for the long author's note, but i wanted to put these things out there <3

_Blood stuck to Nathaniel’s arms as he slipped them beneath his mother’s body, the make-shift bandage he had wrapped around her stomach in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding already beginning to fall apart. He gritted his teeth and lifted her out of the car, for once thankful for her slim build after three years on the run. She was light - too light - but there was nothing to be done about that now. Every step Nathaniel took brought his mother closer to her death, whether he dwelled on it or not, and they both knew it._

_Dirt turned to sand and scattered stones as he reached the coast, the sea air mixing with the thick stench of blood around him. He took deep breaths through his mouth to ward off the smell and steel himself to let his mother go._  
_Kneeling in the sand, he gently laid her down in front of him, wiping the blood from her mouth to allow her to breathe with a little more ease. It was a pitiful effort, but what else could he do? Leave her to bleed out alone? Or kill her himself to spare her the agony of a prolonged death?_

_Mary lifted one blood-covered hand up to Nathaniel’s face, unfocused eyes blinking blearily up at him as she smeared it onto his chin._  
_“Abram,” she rasped, blood running in rivulets down her chin. “Remember what you promised me. Always be anyone but yourself-” She cut off, choking, and Nathaniel scrabbled to prop her head up before she twitched her lips in a poor imitation of a frown. “Don’t waste your time on me, Abram, you and I both know that I’m not making it off this beach. Remember everything that I’ve taught you, and kill them. Kill them all. Do you understand?”_

_“Mum-” Nathaniel began, struggling to find the words for the final goodbye that his mother deserved. He may have hated her for their first year on the run together, but if it hadn’t been for her, he would have been as good as dead long ago. If he had survived, he would have traded his humanity for his survival, and a life lived in fear was better than a life lived without a soul.  
“Promise me, Abram.”_

_Nathaniel took a deep, shuddering breath and reached for the knife he kept tucked into a sheath inside his sleeve - his mother had encouraged him to keep weapons wherever possible, and wherever they wouldn’t be easily noticed - ignoring the shakiness to his hand._  
_“I promise, mum. I won’t let you down.”_

_His mother’s body convulsed with effort as she tried to take another breath._  
_Nathaniel tightened his grip on the knife and brought it down._  
_He was his father’s son, after all._  
_And one day, he would be his father’s demise._

“Shit, Neil, classes start in ten minutes you, you shouldn’t still be in here-”

Neil Josten jerked awake the moment he felt a hand on his shoulder, still wrapped in the last remnants of his nightmare. Throwing an elbow in the direction of his presumed assailant was instinctive, but he wasn’t expecting Coach Hernanez’s startled groan as it made contact with the man’s stomach. He ought to have felt guilty - Hernandez had been good to him, far better than Neil deserved - but all he could focus on was the imagined scent of blood and sea air lingering in his nostrils.

But the genuine concern written all over the older man’s face - _concern_ , of all things, when Neil had just attacked him - gave Neil pause, and he allowed a sheepish smile to cross his face.  
“Sorry, Coach,” he said, voice raspy from sleep. “Are you okay?”  
“Don’t worry about me, kid; you’re the one who slept in the school overnight.” Hernandez replied, the unspoken _again_ laying heavy in the air between them.  
“I’m fine, Coach, I have a free period first, anyway, so I won’t be late to anything.” That wasn’t why Hernandez was concerned, and they both knew it, but there was no way for Neil to explain his tendency for sleeping on school grounds. Not without getting herded off to the nearest police station, anyway, and Neil wasn’t in the mood to spend his last year of high school surrounded by anxious pigs.

 _High school._  
It was such an absurd thing for Neil to be worried about; fourteen years spent living with the most notorious serial killer on the East Coast as his father, and the next four spent running from him, yet Neil was focused on graduating high school. His mother would have been furious with him for staying in one place for this long, but that would have had nothing on what would have happened if she had any way of knowing he was playing Exy again. The bastard sport was one of the deciding factors in why they ran all those years ago - the Moriyamas had decided that there was more profit to come from Exy than their esteemed Butchers, and Neil was supposed to be shipped off to join the Ravens; provided he was up to their standards first.

Neil - or, rather, Nathaniel - had only been fourteen at the time, but he was smart for his age, and knew what it meant when his father dragged him to Evermore at his side. He had known what would happen if he didn’t conform to their standards on the court, and if he held back off the court, too. As had his mother, who had made sure that he never made it to the second day of his ’audition’

Playing Exy was a direct violation of almost every rule his mother had instilled in him. But Neil was tired of running, tired of slinking around in the shadows and pretending to be less than he was. The Millport Dingoes were pitiful enough not to garner unwanted attention, and obscure enough that the team wouldn’t even come close to crossing the Ravens’ radar. It was the perfect opportunity for Neil to make the most of the remainder of his teen years - he’d finish the season as Millport’s most improved striker, graduate high school in May, and leave Neil Josten behind forever as a new identity quickly replaced it.

Everything was planned out, and although Neil had been raised not to put too much faith in even the most flawless scenario, he was content.  
That was his first mistake.

***  
Neil sat in the bleachers and let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag, watching idly as a clump of ash fluttered to the floor. Millport had lost the game tonight, albeit by a remarkably small margin (largely thanks to Neil) and had been kicked from the Championships two games before the finals. The court was already being converted back into a soccer field in preparation for the team’s upcoming season, and Neil looked on with detached interest. Their loss tonight had been disappointing, yet predictable, but Neil’s main cause for concern was whether or not Hernandez would still allow him to sleep in the locker room now that he was technically no longer a student athlete. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but sleeping on school grounds was easier than breaking into empty houses and risking being discovered squatting.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him and Neil tensed, gripping his duffel bag closer to his side, but it was only Hernandez.  
“I thought I’d see your parents at the game tonight,” he said. “I know, they don’t normally turn up, but they could’ve made an exception for tonight.”  
Neil shrugged. “They’re out of town for work. Besides, nobody knew it’d be the last game, and they didn’t miss much, anyway.”  
“Not yet, maybe.” Hernandez said. “Someone wanted to see you after the game.”

Neil froze. It was unlikely that anyone who worked for his father would have found him all the way out in Millport, but he’d inherited his mother’s paranoia. He didn’t allow himself to relax until he saw the man emerging from the locker room. Something about his appearance joggled a memory in Neil’s mind, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on why. His brown eyes fixed an intent gaze on Neil, and tattooed arms held onto a thick file.  
“He’s from a university team,” Hernandez explained. “He wanted to watch you play tonight.”  
“Bullshit.” Neil scoffed. “Why would anyone want to come to Millport to recruit? Nobody even knows it exists.”  
“Believe it or not, kid, there’s a little something called a map. Ring any bells?” the stranger said, and Neil fought not to roll his eyes. He opened his mouth to offer a sharp retort, but refrained at the sharp look Hernandez shot him.  
“Wymack is here because I asked him to come. His team was in need of a striker sub and there was nothing to lose, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case nothing came from it.”

 _Wymack. Fuck._ Neil thought. That explained the man’s familiarity - the Palmetto State Foxes had been all over the news ever since former star Kevin Day had joined the line. Kevin Day, who Neil hadn’t seen since the day Neil had killed a man under his father’s orders. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture the way Kevin flinched as Neil slipped his knife into the skin of that man’s throat, the thick waterfall of blood rushing over his steady hands. It had always been far too easy for Neil to end a life: a flick of a knife through a carotid here, a bullet to the chest there. Kevin’s terrified keen and Riko’s curious silence had made it significantly more difficult.

Either Wymack’s appearance here was a remarkable coincidence, or Neil was royally fucked.

“Foxes. Palmetto State.” he said, slowly.  
Wymack nodded. “You gonna sign or not, kid? The ERC’s been hounding me to get a new sub for weeks now, and I need to know if this is a waste of my time or not.”  
“You expect me to play for the same team as Kevin Day.” Neil meant it as a question, but it came out far too flat.  
“Kevin’s the one signing you, technically. He knows potential when he sees it, and decided we had to have you.”

_Fuck._

There was a chance Kevin discovering Neil had nothing to do with their shared past. If he didn’t, Neil could sign. He could do more than that, in fact: he could use Kevin’s connections to the Moriyamas to finally bring them down, just as his mother had wished while they had been on the run.  
If Kevin recognised him, Neil would have to leave. Forget graduating, forget everything ‘Neil Josten’ - quiet, independent, unknowable Neil Josten - stood for. He’d run without looking back, maybe go to England to make the most of his mother’s contacts.  
But. He’d been handed a potential opportunity on a silver platter, and he’d be a fool not to take it.

“You still with us, kid?” Wymack’s voice cut through Neil’s thoughts. “There’s more to my offer than I’ve told you, and I could do with you sticking around to hear it. I flew three people out here to see you for a reason.”  
_Fuck it._ Neil thought. One of those three people had to be Kevin - it wouldn’t make sense for Wymack to bring players from other positions out to meet a potential striker. If he could determine whether or not Kevin recognised him now, he could figure out what to do next quickly enough.  
“I’m still with you,” Neil said. “What else did you want to tell me about your offer, exactly?”

Wymack and Hernandez exchanged an indecipherable look.  
“You know the types of people I recruit, Neil. This team is all about giving people the chances they deserve, when society has already dismissed them as unfixable and irredeemable. Based on what your coach has told me, you’d fit right in.”  
Neil raised an eyebrow. “Is your recruitment strategy telling people that they’re a lost cause? It’s a wonder more people don’t sign up.”  
Wymack ignored him. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Josten. From what Hernandez has told me, and what I saw in your file, I can tell your home life is pretty shitty, and I’m not going to pry. But, if you sign with us, I can move you over to Palmetto as soon as you’ve graduated, since your file says you’re legal. I don’t know if your parents are going to be a problem, but if they are, this can help you out.”

Before Neil could respond, his attention was diverted by the emergence of two figures - one tall, one short - from the locker room. The taller one was clearly Kevin, with stark black hair and that damned ‘2’ tattooed on his left cheek, just below his eye. Which meant that the short one had to be Andrew Minyard; Neil knew not to underestimate the man for his height, not after the knack for violence which he presumed led to him becoming Kevin’s volunteer bodyguard. Judging by the racquet gripped tight in one hand, Andrew had come to Millport looking for trouble, and Neil could only imagine the pain that Andrew would be able to cause with the weight of the racquet and his muscular build.

“If it isn’t Coach’s precious little rabbit,” Andrew said with a taunting smile. “Kevin had to see what all the fuss was about out here; waiting isn’t one of his strong suits, you see.”  
Kevin flicked him an exasperated look, but his attention was focused on Neil. “What Andrew means to say is that I wanted to see if Wymack had managed to get you on board or not. We’re waiting on you to sign this contract.”

“Why me?” Neil asked. He knew it was petulant, but challenging Kevin was the best way to get a straight answer out of him. If he recognised him - which Neil doubted; nothing in his face betrayed recognition, and Neil was aided by black hair dye and brown contacts - Kevin could very easily give it away with a bit of prompting. “Hundreds of strikers are desperate for a chance to play for a Class 1 team, and you’re going for someone with less than a year’s worth of experience. It doesn’t make sense.”  
“Your inexperience isn’t ideal, that’s true, and it goes against everything we should be aiming for to improve the team this season. But your coach didn’t just send us your file. He gave us a video of you in action, and you play like you have nothing to lose. That’s the type of striker the Foxes need, and that’s why we’ve chosen you.”

Neil let himself relax slightly. If Kevin remembered him, he’d know that his ‘inexperience’ was an outright lie. Playing in a different position had helped him to feign ignorance on the court, as had three years spent as far from Exy as his mother could get him, but the confirmation Kevin didn’t see Nathaniel Wesninski when he looked at Neil was the final push he needed. He could sign with the Foxes now, and hopefully, they could get him close enough to the Moriyamas to exact the revenge he’d allowed to fester since his mother’s death.

“Where do I sign?” Neil asked, ignoring both the slight smile on Wymack’s face and the bubble of excitement - or was it apprehension? - in his stomach.  
That was his second mistake.

***

Neil’s first four weeks with the Foxes went about as well as he’d expected. The Upperclassmen had spent the time away from Palmetto State - unlike Kevin and the cousins, they’d spent their break with family across the country - which meant Neil was subjected to Kevin’s relentless coaching and Andrew’s cheerful cruelty. Every step Neil took apparently wasn’t good enough for the striker’s impossibly high standards, and while Neil had started the early practises holding back to avoid testing Kevin’s memory, he had quickly discarded that precaution in favour of a few moments of peace out on the court. He had to idea how the Foxes had coped working with Kevin the previous year, and when he’d said as much to the twin’s cousin, Nicky, all he’d gotten was a tired smile.

Even after a month, Neil was unsure of where he stood with Andrew’s group. Aaron had appeared happy to pretend Neil didn’t exist off the court once they’d gotten their first meeting out of the day, which Neil was fine with after he’d allowed Andrew to trick Neil into believing he was Aaron on the day he’d come to Palmetto. Nicky seemed nice on the surface, but it was clear that his loyalties lied with Andrew, even when his cousin had attempted to stab him, an event which Nicky’s quick dismissal of made Neil’s stomach churn. Andrew himself had rarely interacted with Neil unless Kevin was at his side, and the man’s drug-induced cheer was nauseating. Privately, Neil thought Andrew’s medication had to be causing him more harm than good, although that may very well have been contributed to by the smiles sharper than the knives their owners wielded haunting Neil’s dreams.

A few days before the team officially came together for practise, Neil had gone to get some essentials from a store a short distance from Wymack’s apartment ready for when he’d have to move to the dorms. He’d grown used to the routine with the older man, despite still not truly trusting him - or any of the Foxes, for that matter - on principle, which meant he’d also gotten used to the easy privacy he had been provided.

Although most of his belongings were cheap and easily replaceable (eight outfits he’d picked up from various thrift stores over the years, a flip phone he’d purchased out of necessity rather than function, and the boxes of hair dye, namely), there was something he couldn’t risk any of the Foxes finding. His mother had left him with a ring binder which, on first glance, appeared to be little more than a collection of old Exy news and updates, but beneath that facade held a quarter of a million dollars in cash or cheques, along with directions to a further half a million. That, combined with the cryptic list of his mother’s old contacts, was his only possession that warranted protection, and he had been able to keep it in a locked drawer in Wymack’s apartment for his first few weeks, but he had needed a more permanent solution for its safety.

He’d returned to Wymack’s apartment, fireproof safe and various other essentials in hand, only to find a blank-eyed Kevin perched on the sofa, fingers tracing distracted patterns over the jagged scar on his left hand. Neil hung back in the hallway as Wymack entered the room, a grim expression on his face, and awkwardly perched next to the striker.

“I knew he’d come back for me,” Kevin said in a small voice. “We all knew he was more than fucking capable of it. He could pay off my contract in a heartbeat - you know that - and what am I supposed to do then?”  
“You hang back and let us deal with the bastard, that’s what. He doesn’t get to control you anymore, understand? You’re a Fox now, and no amount of Moriyama money can change that. You’re safe here.”  
Kevin made a half-hearted noise of agreement, but Neil was almost too lost in thought to notice. The only people capable of instilling that level of fear in Kevin were Riko and Tetsuji, but the Moriyamas had no reason to be anywhere near Kevin, since the Foxes and the Ravens were in different districts-

_Oh, this could be interesting._

There was a chance Neil was jumping to conclusions, but the Ravens changing districts would make too much sense. It would give them the excuse to get under Kevin’s skin again, the bastards, while Riko could give the cameras his perfect little smile while trying to beat the Foxes into submission. He could certainly try, anyway - Riko might only be a mere pawn in the Moriyama’s arsenal, but dismantling an empire has to start with the foundations. Besides, after seeing how just the thought of Riko reduced Kevin’s haughty confidence to nothing, Neil wanted nothing more than to give him what he deserved.

Neil had an important call to make, but before he could slip outside and do so, Wymack looked up from where he was consoling Kevin and saw him lurking in the doorway. He tensed as the man stood up, expecting the heavy-handed anger his father had delivered the few times he’d been caught eavesdropping in the past, but Wymack only looked resigned as he left the apartment, gesturing for Neil to follow. He tucked his shopping to one side, careful not to let Kevin see him, before leaving.

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone until the whole team was here,” Wymack said. “How much did you hear?”  
Neil shrugged. “Not much, but enough to figure out the gist of it. The Ravens are moving districts, aren’t they?”  
“Unfortunately, they are. The ERC approved their transfer request this morning, meaning they’re part of the southeastern district as of the start of June.”  
Wymack let that sink in, then added, “There’s something you need to know about the Ravens and the Moriyamas. I didn’t want to have to have this conversation with you so soon, but the ERC’s forced my hand by bringing them down here. It’s an open secret, meaning we know it, but nobody outside the team does. And it needs to stay that way, understand?”  
Neil nodded, having a feeling he knew where this conversation was going, and Wymack plowed on.  
“You know that Kevin transferred here because of his hand injury, but the part about the ski trip? It’s a load of bullshit. He showed up at my room at the winter banquet last year with his hand a bloody mess, saying he couldn’t go to a hospital because it would notify the Ravens. Abby patched it up as best as she could, and he told us what happened on the bus back to South Carolina.”

It didn’t take Neil long to piece it together: Riko had always been a self-centred, sadistic bastard, after all. “Riko did it,” he said, and Wymack nodded.  
“The NCAA advisors thought Riko was holding Kevin back, so Coach Moriyama set them against each other in response. Riko won - although I doubt it was done fairly - and broke Kevin’s hand as soon as it was over. From what I’ve gathered, it wasn’t the first time a Moriyama had laid a hand on him, but it’s the most noticeable mark they’ve left him with.”

He paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, then continued. “This is where things start getting messy. Nobody knows about what happens behind Evermore’s doors because Riko and Tetsuji are Moriyamas. The family is split into two branches: the main family, and the side branch. The main is reserved for the first born sons, and everyone else, including Riko and Tetsuji, are related to the side. Tetsuji’s brother, Kengo heads up the main family, and shipped Riko off to his brother as soon as he was born. Follow?”

Neil would wager he knew far more than Wymack did when it came to the Moriyamas, but he simply said, “Yes, I think so,” and let the man carry on.

“The branches are estranged, with Kengo working as the CEO of a trade company in New York, which he’ll pass to his eldest son, Ichirou, when he dies. Tetsuji and the rest of the branch family get some of the profits, but aren’t considered important enough to make any decisions within the business. That’s what the public knows about it anyway. The truth is far grittier than that.”

“What is the truth, then?” Neil asked, feigning confusion.

“The Moriyamas are an immigrated yakuza group. I don’t know all the details about it, only what Kevin knew from being around Tetsuji and Riko, but I do know that the main branch uses Raven games to cover up some of their more unsavory business, since the number of people going into and out of Edgar Allen would avoid raising people’s suspicions.”

Neil knew about that ‘unsavory business’ all too well - he and his father had been a part of it on too many occasions to count. He hadn’t been in Evermore since the day before his mother had taken him and run, but could picture the tinted windows and tarp-covered floors of the main branch’s conference rooms perfectly. Just how much blood had he spilled in those rooms, wishing it was his father’s instead?

Wymack must have interpreted Neil’s silence as confusion or fear, because his voice softened slightly. “I’m telling you about this because the rest of the team already knows, but you don’t need to worry about the yakuza. The main branch doesn’t give a flying fuck about what the side branch does, as long as it doesn’t interfere with them, but Tetsuji and Riko use the power behind their name to get away with all the violence and abuse that happens at the Nest. Now, they’re using it to try and get Kevin to go crawling back to them, but it won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?” Neil asked in spite of himself. Kevin had found a home with the Foxes, but that safety, along with Andrew’s ‘protection’ would only go so far against the Moriyamas. They kept his father in check without a problem, after all. They could dispose of Andrew without so much as lifting a finger, and where would Kevin be then? Another Moriyama pawn, or six feet under at his father’s hands as revenge for his rebellion?

“Tetsuji doesn’t have the resources or power that his brother has, meaning there’s nothing he can do to buy out Kevin’s contract with us without getting the main branch involved. Try as they might, Riko and Tetsuji can’t do much more than make empty threats against us.” Wymack turned to go back into his apartment, before saying, “It’d probably be best if Kevin doesn’t see you at the moment, all things considered. If you want, I can call Abby to pick you up so you can spend the evening at her house with the others, but you can’t tell the others about the Ravens yet.”

“I won’t say anything about this to them, don’t worry,” Neil said, taking a few steps down the corridor. “And I’ll go out on a run or something until Kevin leaves.”

“He should be out of here by four. Take care of yourself kid, alright?”

Neil nodded, and Wymack returned to his apartment, leaving Neil alone in the hall. He walked down the flights of stairs to the building’s ground level in silence before pulling his burner from his back pocket, dialling from memory the one number his mother had tried to make him forget. 

A flurry of frustrated French answered him, and Neil couldn’t help but smile as he shouldered the front door open.  
“For fuck’s sake, Nathaniel, you couldn’t have given me any warning, could you?” Jean Moreau’s voice echoed from the tinny speaker. “Lola’s pissed off about something, and if she knew I was talking to you, she’d kill me.”  
“It’s nice to hear from you, too, Jean,” Neil replied, slipping into the same language. “Straight to business, as always..”

Jean ignored his jab. “You’re the one who went three months without giving me any updates, before calling out of the blue. If it hadn’t been for your father complaining to DiMaccio about how they still hadn’t found you, I’d think you were dead.”

“I’m sorry about that, Jean,” Neil said, wincing. “I’ve been busy and only just had the chance to call you.”

“Busy with what, exactly?”  
“Getting an in with the Foxes. It turns out the Ravens are moving south this year, did you know that?”  
“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, you’re even crazier than I thought. Are you out of your mind, Nathaniel? Going after Riko like this could kill you”  
“Out of my mind? No, I’m just an opportunist. Besides, I’ve survived the past four years with my father after me, what’s the worst an unwanted cast-off like Riko could do to me?”  
He could almost hear Jean’s exasperation through the phone, but his friend only sighed.  
“You’re going to be the death of me one of these days, Nathaniel.”  
“You love me for it, Jean, don’t try and deny it.”

Nathaniel let his father’s smile cover his face as he walked along Perimeter Road, listening to Jean rant about everything that could go wrong with his ‘suicidal’ and ‘highly dangerous’ plan. But he didn’t care, because for the first time since his mother’s death, Nathaniel Wesninski’s life had a purpose.


	2. Mountain Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil meets the rest of the Foxes, antagonises Andrew, and somehow finds himself spending a night with the Monsters in Columbia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took so long! i meant to post it two weeks ago, but one thing led to another and i only finished it today. there's only a week left of school until half term, though, so hopefully the space between this chapter and the next wont be quite so long. i promise it's better than the summary suggests,, things go differently than in canon in order to spice it up a bit, and the real plot is going to get going next chapter
> 
> content warnings for this chapter, please let me know if i need to add any more:  
> \- threats of violence  
> \- alcohol and drug use  
> \- vomiting (very very brief and non-explicit, in the context of andrew's withdrawal)  
> \- references to mary and tilda's parenting

The day before the Foxes’s practises officially began, Neil made it to the court an hour or two before the first of them - Matt, one of his two future roommates - was due to arrive. He used the time to go through the pile of paperwork Wymack had handed to him: pages of information about correct dormitory behaviour, information on Palmetto’s campus and extracurriculars, and a catalogue of the university’s subject options.  
He curled up on one of the sofas in the Foxes’ lounge and looked through it, trying to determine the most beneficial route for him to take. It didn’t take him long to decide on Spanish and maths, but he spent at least another fifteen minutes flicking aimlessly through the options before eventually settling on English and Speech.  
There was still a half hour or so to go after that until Matt’s predicted arrival, and he was heading through to the court to run laps and pass the time when he bumped into Abby. He hadn’t seen much of her thus far, preferring to stay out of the way of Andrew’s group and therefore the team’s nurse by association, but he couldn’t help but respect her for being able to live with the so-called Monsters for so long.

“Hi, Neil,” she said with a warm smile. “David told me you were waiting here for Matt, so I thought we may as well get your physical out of the way now, if it’s alright with you?”  
Neil nodded and followed Abby through The Foxhole Court’s obnoxiously orange lounge to her office, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him not to trust Abby. Abby wasn’t Lola - she wasn’t a threat. At least, she didn’t seem to be, and that had to be good enough.  
When the pair got to her office, the dull magnolia walls a pleasant contrast to the eyesore outside, Neil followed Abby’s instructions; weighing in, letting her measure his height, and sitting on the room’s bed to work through a variety of tests of his reflexes and blood pressure. He didn’t hesitate until she asked him to remove his shirt so she could check for track marks, when he froze and inched closer to the edge of the bed. His discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by Abby, who watched him with a grim frown for what felt like hours, but was really only minutes.  
“Neil, I want to make this as painless for us both as possible, but I can’t clear you to play without checking you for track marks, which I can’t do unless you take off your shirt.”

Neil wasn’t ashamed of his scars. They were a brutal reminder of everything he had survived, every time he’d been both the perpetrator and victim of harm. But letting someone see them meant letting them close enough to remember him, to worry about him, and he couldn’t afford anyone’s concern.

Abby accepted Neil’s silent rebellion for a couple more minutes before sighing and taking a step closer to the bed.  
“I know you feel like you have something to hide, Neil,” she said in a soft voice, like she was trying not to scare a stray cat. Neil hated it. “But you need to remember that I work for the Foxes, and I’ve probably seen far worse than what’s beneath that shirt. Don’t worry about it, okay?”  
Neil desperately hoped that Abby had never seen anything close to what he was hiding, but instead of saying as much, he simply gave her a measured look and said, “You can’t ask about it, and you can’t tell anyone.”  
Abby nodded, and Neil yanked his shirt over his head, revealing the gruesome life of Nathaniel Wesninski. He’d given up on counting his scars long ago, and they no longer phased him, but it was clear that Abby had never been exposed to such raw indicators of a joyless childhood. He sat and watched her calm facade shatter as she took in the iron imprint on his right shoulder, the scattered triad of bullet wounds, the swatch of pale skin from when he’d been pushed from a moving vehicle. She didn’t seem to register the countless nicks from knives, both offensive and defensive, or the distinct lack of track marks.

Neil tapped the underside of the bed with his heel to redirect Abby’s attention, holding out his forearms for her to contemplate. He ought to have felt something more than a detached sense of frustration at her reaction, but he couldn’t summon the remorse or sympathy that was etched all over her face.  
“I don’t think I have any track marks,” he said, pulling his shirt back on and hopping off the bed. Abby began to say something, likely a question about what had happened to him, but Neil ignored her fretful tone in favour of hurrying out of the room and back into the lounge, returning to the couch he’d been on only minutes before.

Neil’s fingers twitched with the need for a cigarette, or even a knife, anything to take his mind off Abby’s reaction. How could he have been so stupid? He should have just pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and refused to go any further, consequences be damned. All he could do now was hope Abby would do as he asked and not mention his scars to anyone else, but he knew better than to put trust in anyone.  
Neil had only trusted two people in his life, and one was dead, while the other was holed up in Baltimore, trying to help Neil take down his father. He had never needed to rely on anyone else, and there was no reason for Abby - or anyone associated with the Foxes, for that matter - to gain his trust.

Voices coming from the hallway leading to the court’s exit roused Neil from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Matt Boyd walking in, with Wymack a few steps behind him. Wymack handed Matt a key, before throwing one in Neil’s general direction once he was close enough. It landed about a foot away from him on the couch, and he scooped it up before standing to greet his new roommate.  
Matt met him halfway across the room and offered a hand, which Neil shook firmly before looking up to his face. His eyes briefly skirted over the faded track marks on the other man’s arms, but he’d done enough research on the Foxes that they didn’t faze him.   
“Matt Boyd,” he said. “I’m one of the starting backliners for the Foxes this year. You must be Neil.”  
Neil nodded, Matt’s face split open into a warm smile, an expression almost alien to Neil after weeks spent mostly with Andrew’s lot.  
“So, Coach told me he had you waiting out for me before moving into the dorms, I’m heading there now before going to pick up Dan and Renee from the airport, if you want to catch a ride with me?”  
“Is it okay if you drop me off at Coach’s on the way?” Neil asked. “I need to pick up my things.”  
Matt nodded affirmation, and the pair of them left their coach at the court and climbed into Matt’s bright blue abomination of a truck. It was filled with furniture and suitcases, held together by what looked to be taut cords and sheer force of will, but there was enough space for them both in the front. Fortunately, Neil only had to get his duffel bag, safe, and the plastic bag of bedclothes he’d picked up a couple days ago - if he’d had anything more, he’d probably have had to walk back and carry it all.

The short ride to Wymack’s apartment was mostly filled with trivial small talk, with Neil politely answering Matt’s questions without really answering them. His roommate seemed nice enough, and would definitely be a good ally to have while with the Foxes, but there was no need for them to know each other. He didn’t need to know Matt’s favourite colour (yellow) or his favourite band (Echo and the Bunnymen), but he listened politely and sprinkled in his own lies.

Matt idled at the curb while Neil jogged up to Wymack’s apartment and retrieved his things, and raised an eyebrow when he came back down carrying a fireproof safe, but didn’t question Neil’s packing choices. They didn’t really speak on their way to Fox Tower, content to let the short journey pass in silence, but the conversation started up again as they started to carry Matt’s furniture up to their dorm on the third floor.  
“We’re not all as bad as the Monsters,” Matt said, unloading a deconstructed shelf from the bed of his truck. “Dan and I hated that they’d be your first impression of us.”  
Neil shouldered open the door to the Tower, before helping Matt lug the shelves up the narrow stairwell. “They weren’t that bad, actually. Kevin seems to think the sun rises and sets just for him, and Andrew is, well, Andrew, but I can handle them.”  
Matt snorted. “I thought I could handle them, but we call them the Monsters for a reason. If you ever need any help with them, just let me know, okay? Sometimes they just need a reminder that their boundaries aren’t the same as everyone else’s.”

It took a good twenty minutes after that for them to get all of Matt’s furniture up to their suite, and another half an hour or so to get everything assembled and organised, but the dorm was already the closest thing to a home that Neil had been able to call his own in a long time. The living room alone was larger than most of the apartments he and his mother had lived in while on the run, with three desks pushed to one wall in preparation for Neil, Matt, and their third roommate, Seth, to start working on assignments. Matt had also brought in a sofa, coffee table, TV and entertainment centre to bring some life into the room, and the normality was almost startling.

While Matt was filing his films and games into the shelves of his entertainment centre, Neil took stock of their bedroom. Sharing a room with others wasn’t ideal, but it was better than sharing an apartment with Wymack, and it would be nice to have a real bed again. They’d already agreed that Matt would have to take the bottom bunk, thanks to his height, and Seth was also too tall to sleep up top, so Neil dug out the sheets he’d bought and managed to dress the bed without too much hassle. Then, he emptied his small selection of outfits into the dresser that had been reserved for him, stuffed his duffel into another drawer, and placed the safe on top. He didn’t like leaving a symbol of his secrecy so blatantly out in the open, but at least his binder was locked up and away from prying eyes. That would have to do.

Matt came in a short while later, having finished settling in, and told Neil he was just heading out to pick up Dan and Renee. He offered for Neil to come with him, but he declined on account of wanting to explore campus. Which was partly true, but there was also the fact that Andrew’s lot were also going to be moving into their dorm today, and Neil didn’t trust them to be near anything of his when he wasn’t around to keep an eye on them. He’d do a quick loop of the campus, make sure he knew where the most important buildings (besides the court) were, and hopefully be back before Andrew could try anything.

Neil followed Matt into the hallway and locked the door behind them both, giving Nicky a quick nod of acknowledgement as they passed him on the staircase. They didn’t stop to talk, which was fine by Neil, and he left Matt’s side once they were both outside.  
Matt pulled away with a wave and a honk of his horn, and Neil began his exploration of Palmetto’s campus.  
With over 20,000 students, Palmetto State felt more like a small town than a University, and Neil began to head back after only covering a kilometre or two. He’d find a map of the campus later, but some knowledge is always better than none at all.

When he got back to the dorms, Nicky, Aaron and Kevin’s voices could be heard from their suite, which was at the opposite end of the corridor to Neil’s. Andrew seemed conspicuously absent, as a part of Neil had suspected, and a quick walk to Neil’s room confirmed that Andrew had gone on a little search of his own. The door was ajar, its cheap lock having been picked, and Neil found Andrew stood in the bedroom, hands rooting through Neil’s dresser.

“Funny, I thought your room was down the hall. Did you get lost on the way there?” Neil asked, anger making his voice icy. He had known Andrew couldn’t be trusted, but the blatant disregard for Neil’s privacy grated on him more than he cared to admit.  
Andrew turned, his drug-induced grin twisting his face into something monstrous. “Ah, Neil! I hadn’t expected to see you here. I thought a burrow would have been more your style, what with your little rabbit-y tendencies and all.”  
Neil gritted his teeth. “Your perception of me is flattering, but I don’t give a fuck about what you thought. Get out of my room.”

“My, someone’s fiery, isn’t he?” Andrew laughed. “Don’t worry, little rabbit. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss this later. Oh, how about this Friday? We’re going out to Columbia this weekend - Nicky, Aaron, Kevin and I-” he counted the names off on his fingers, eyes lingering on his little finger. “And you, of course, are joining us. We’ll give you time to meet the rest of your precious team, and then the five of us will go out to dinner and one of the local nightclubs. It’ll be great fun.”  
“For you, maybe,” Neil said. “What, you break into my room, look through my things, and suddenly you want to go out and play best friends? I don’t buy it.”  
“Too bad, Neil. Is it so difficult for you to believe that someone wants to do something nice for you?”  
“It is, when that someone is a homicidal prick who pokes holes in people for fun. I’m peculiar that way.”  
Andrew laughed again, the harsh sound causing goosebumps to cover Neil’s arms. “Oh, the rabbit has teeth. Isn’t that interesting?” he paused, drawing a knife from one of his armbands and considering it like he’d never seen it before. “Let me reiterate, then. You’re coming with us on Friday, and you’re going to play nice, or my hand might just slip, and this knife might just find itself buried in your palm. We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

The remark was so absurd, Neil was stunned into silence. He was used to being threatened and blackmailed, used to having that cruelty carried out without a second thought - and had played a good part in causing harm, himself - but it had never come from someone who smiled as brightly as Andrew. It was unnerving, but Neil had dealt with far worse than an angry, drugged teenager.  
“I’m not afraid of you,” he said. “Take your threats to someone they’ll actually work on.”  
“Is that a yes, then? It is? Excellent,” Andrew walked from the dresser to the door, pausing as he passed Neil to whisper in his ear. “I’ll figure you out, little rabbit. That’s a promise, and I hate to break my promises, you see.”

Neil didn’t give Andrew the satisfaction of watching him leave, instead electing to assess the damage that had been caused. The safe seemed untouched, likely because its lock was sturdier than that of the room's door, but his clothes were in the middle of being upended, and his duffel bag was wide open. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to keep his contacts and hair dye inside the safe, too; the paranoia he’d inherited from his mother could be a hindrance, sometimes, but at times like this it was a blessing.

Matt had gotten back from the airport by the time Neil had fixed the mess Andrew had made, and he entered the living room to find his roommate talking to Dan, his girlfriend and the Fox’s captain, and Renee, their other goalkeeper. Renee gave him a small smile when she saw him, but Neil saw right through her innocent facade almost immediately. There hadn’t been much online about Renee Walker, unlike the rest of the Foxes, and that combined with the intelligent glint in her eyes made Neil distrust her immediately. She seemed nice enough on the outside, but then, so did Neil. The most dangerous of people used pristinity as a shield, and Neil had no doubt that Renee was one such person.

The other Foxes either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. The three of them had put a movie on, and were watching it together, a plate of cookies perched on Matt’s coffee table. It was a slice of normality so different to the conversation Neil had had with Andrew that it gave him pause, but Matt noticed him before he could think too much of it and waved him over.  
Dan greeted him with a fierce grin and firm handshake - his mother would have liked her, if she were capable of such a thing - and asked him the same questions Matt had earlier. Yes, he was fine. No, Andrew hadn’t been a problem. Yes, he was looking forward to the season. The lies came to him naturally, although to be fair, he was looking forward to the season, just not for the same reasons as the rest of the team.

***  
The week leading up to Andrew’s promised trip out to Columbia went mostly without incident. The last of the Foxes, Allison and Seth, were introduced to Neil shortly after he’d met Dan and Renee. Seth was an asshole who seemed to think even looking at Neil was beneath him, and Allison didn’t seem to care about him beyond trying to figure out his role in the team’s hierarchy, which was perfectly fine with Neil. He didn’t want to let them in, and they didn’t want to be privy to the bundle of secrets and lies that was Neil Josten.

That distance may have been contributed to by the fact that the team had bigger things to worry about than their amateur striker sub. They’d taken the news of the Raven’s transfer about as well as Kevin had, and seemed to be venting that anger on the court. Practises were brutal and messy, and Neil had lost count of the number of fights Seth had started with Kevin, but the exercise was a welcome distraction.  
Andrew’s lot had kept their distance, too, but that border between them fell away as soon as Friday arrived. Neil was leaving the locker room after practise, hoping to get a few moments of peace to talk to Jean, when a hand grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. Lashing out was instinctive, and his attacker groaned as his elbow made contact with their stomach. Neil hadn’t expected to see Nicky breathing heavily and clutching his torso, but the other man waved off his apologies, saying something about how he was used to it.

Once he’d seemingly recovered, Nicky plucked up a black gift bag from the bench nearest to them, holding it out to Neil. He looked at it, then up at Nicky, not quite understanding.  
“Andrew said he’d invited you to come to Columbia with us tonight, right?” he asked, smiling when Neil nodded. “Great! This is for you, then. Andrew didn’t trust you to pick out something suitable to wear out, and told me to buy you something fancy.”  
Neil took the bag, but didn’t take his eyes off Nicky. “Tell your cousin I don’t need his handouts. I can buy things for myself.”  
“Don’t think of it as a handout, then. Think of it as a way for us to be seen with you in public without losing our dignity, if that’ll make you accept it. Because, no offence, you have a terrible fashion sense.”  
“I’ll try not to take it to heart,” Neil said drily, and Nicky laughed.  
“Good, good. Oh, also, before I forget, Andrew wants you to take your contacts out tonight. Says he doesn’t like the colour, or something.”  
Neil ignored the way his stomach dropped at Nicky’s words. “You mean the contacts I need in order to be able to see? I think I’ll pass.”  
His words came out a bit sharper than he intended, and Nicky winced. “Andrew seemed to think they were fashion lenses, for sure. Don’t you have any glasses or anything?”  
“It’s cheaper to buy contacts than spend $200 on a pair of glasses that’ll probably break after a month,” Neil lied, making his way out of the room and out of the conversation. “What time do you need to leave tonight?”  
Nicky blinked. “Oh, uh, we’re leaving at nine. See you then, right?”  
“Yeah, see you then.” Neil said as he left, wondering if he’d be able to get away with killing Andrew for making his life difficult.  
He probably wouldn’t, but there was no harm in thinking about it.

***  
When Nicky had said Andrew had asked him to pick out something fancy, he hadn’t been expecting the all-black ensemble that was buried in the gift bag. He wasn’t going to complain about the heavy combat books, but the shirt was tightly-fitted and ripped, the complete opposite of Neil’s preferred outfits. He didn’t dislike it, exactly, but he wasn’t looking forward to going to a nightclub and wearing something so eye-catching.  
After finishing getting changed in the dorm’s bathroom, since the bedroom didn’t have a lock, he emerged into the living room to see Andrew’s group lurking in his living room.  
“I thought we talked about you breaking into my things,” he said, looking from Andrew to the door. “Does your shrink know you have a burglary problem, or does she have her hands full with you as it is?”  
Neil’s comment didn’t get a reaction from Andrew, although he saw Aaron and Nicky exchange a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. Looking closer, Neil saw that the manic grin he’d come to associate with Andrew was gone, as was the wild glint in his eyes that seemed ever-present while he was high. He didn’t know what Andrew being sober meant for the night ahead of him, but it can’t have been anything good.

They left the room together and Neil followed them down to Andrew’s Lexus, having the honour of being stuck in the back between both twins. They both fell asleep fairly quickly, and Neil considered pulling out his phone and messaging Jean. Boredom and practicality warred inside him for a few minutes, before his boredom won out and he sent his friend a quick text in French, not really expecting a reply but allowing the action to calm him somewhat.

His relationship with Jean was a complicated one. His parents lived in Marseilles and were indebted to Kengo Moriyama, and instead of paying that debt in money, they’d offered their only son to become one of the family’s trained killers. He’d become Lola’s little pet project, which had meant Nathaniel and Jean had spent a lot of their childhood together, finding ways to make their lives a little less bleak. As a result, they made a formidable team, and Lola used to joke about how much they took after their ‘parents’.

The one regret Neil had about leaving with his mother was that they’d left Jean there in Baltimore. He’d begged his mother to take his friend with them, but she’d refused on account of him not being trustworthy. She never knew that he’d kept contact with Jean all these years, trading information and keeping up aimless conversation when they needed an escape from the world.  
When they were younger, they’d promised each other that they’d stay by each other’s side and work together to burn Nathaniel’s father’s miniature empire to the ground. It had been outlandish and ridiculous, but all these years later, it gave them both something to focus on, and neither of them planned on backing out.

Neil’s phone flashed, and he turned it on to see that Jean, friendly as ever, had responded by asking just how he planned on almost getting killed that night. He smiled slightly as he typed out a response - the monsters are taking me to a club, chances of me getting drugged? - and looked up to see Nicky watching him in the car’s rear view mirror.  
“So, Neil, who’re you texting?” he asked, the sound of his voice rousing the twins.  
“Oh, just a friend from Millport,” Neil lied. “He wanted to know how my summer was going.”  
“You sure he’s just a friend?”  
Neil sighed. “Yes, I’m very sure, thank you for asking. Shouldn’t you be focusing on the road?”  
Nicky dropped the subject, and soon enough the exit signs for Columbia became visible. Andrew sat up and kicked the back of Nicky’s seat, and Neil saw that his hands were shaking.  
“Nicky,” Andrew said. “Pull over. Now.”  
“We’re on an exit ramp-”  
“I don’t care. Pull over.”  
Nicky swerved to the left, ignoring the blaring horns of the cars that whipped past them. He’d barely slowed to a stop when Andrew pushed the car door open, leaning out and dry-heaving before coughing and leaning back into the car.  
“Just take your meds, Andrew,” Kevin said from the front. “I’ve got them with me, just take them.”  
“Shut the fuck up, Kevin,” Andrew said, voice low and raspy. “Nicky, just get us to Sweeties.”

Nicky must have broken at least four different traffic laws to get them to the diner, and as soon as they pulled up, Andrew was out of the car and heading to the door. Neil and the others followed him more slowly, and they entered the restaurant to see Andrew pocketing a packet of crackers from the salad bar. The waiting staff didn’t bat an eye at Andrew’s thievery, or his blatant rudeness when he shoved the empty packets into someone’s apron, simply taking their orders - Nicky ordered the ice cream special for all of them - and heading to the kitchen.  
Their waiter returned shortly later with their desserts and a pile of napkins, which Andrew scattered and retrieved a packet of yellow pile from beneath them. He opened one and upended it into his mouth, and whatever it was must have taken the edge off the withdrawal he’d been going through in the car, because he relaxed enough to eat his desert. Neil raised an eyebrow at Nicky, who read the silent question in it and explained.  
“Cracker dust,” he said. “Tastes like sugar and salt and gives you a pretty decent high, but it isn’t addictive. That’s what makes it so great.”  
Privately, Neil disagreed, but there wasn’t any point in arguing with Nicky when everyone else in the group was clearly happy about the drugs. He’d been joking when he’d asked Jean if he thought he’d end up drugged at the club, but after seeing how easily Andrew had gotten his hands on the crackers, he was starting to think that he’d made a mistake in coming out.

Their second destination of the night was a short drive from Sweeties, and the complete opposite of the diner. Eden’s Twilight, a two-storey nightclub, seemed packed with visitors based on the lengthy queue outside, but Nicky pulled up to the curb and watched as Aaron cut through the line, grabbed an orange parking tag from one of the bouncers, and handed it to his cousin. Nicky pulled away to park, leaving Neil with Kevin and the twins, and they made their way into the club.

Neil wasn’t sure what he had expected from the nightclub, but a growing uneasiness settled in his chest as they made their way through the mass of scantily-dressed drunks. Most of the club was covered by a dance floor, the surface of which was barely visible beneath the sweat and leather. A dais wrapped around the floor, which Neil and Andrew’s group were currently standing on, which was mostly cluttered with tables and chairs. Andrew was undeterred by the crowd, however, and pushed his way through the throng before claiming a table. Aaron and Kevin brought over some extra chairs while Andrew cleared the empty glasses away, before heading for the bar and gesturing for Neil to follow him.

There was a small group of bartenders on duty, but Andrew simply perched on a stool and waved most of them away, intent on waiting for a specific server. After a few minutes, the man in question came over, offering Andrew a small smile  
“It’s good to see you again, Andrew,” he said. “Who’s the friend?”  
Andrew flipped him off. “He’s a nobody, Roland. We’ll take the usual.”  
Andrew’s rudeness didn’t penetrate Roland’s cheer, with the bartender only nodding before looking at Neil. “How about you?”  
“I don’t drink,” Neil said. “I’ll just have a can of soda.”

Roland headed to the back of the bar to make everybody’s drinks, returning a few minutes later with five larger glasses perched on a tray, along with a colourful array of shots. Andrew took it without a word and turned back the way they came.  
Nicky had parked the car and joined the group while Neil and Andrew were gone, and his face lit up when he saw the drinks his cousin was carrying.

Neil took his seat and studied the glass Andrew set in front of him, frowning. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except for the fact that he had specifically asked for a can - he had no reason to trust a bartender, and preferred the chance of his drink being sealed and untampered with. He lifted the glass, ignoring Andrew’s empty stare from across the table, and tried to make out any residue in the club’s ever-shifting lighting. Sure enough, the rim was covered in cloudy streaks, and while that alone didn’t mean that the drink had been spiked, Neil hadn’t been raised to trust strangers. Instead, he set the drink back on the tray with a pointed glance at Andrew, and leaned back in his chair, watched as the Monsters made their way through their alcohol.

Nicky was the first to finish, and he prodded Neil’s arm when he realised he hadn’t touched his soda.  
“Oh, come on,” he whined. “We take you all the way out here, and you won’t even drink with us? For shame, Neil.”  
“You didn’t exactly give me much choice in coming out with you,” Neil pointed out. “And I’m not going to drink anything that’s been drugged.”

Nicky, Kevin and Aaron gaped at him, but Andrew only smiled. It was a different smile to the one he wore while on his meds; where that one was manic and bright, this one was cold and calculating. You could tell a lot about a person from the way they smiled, that was something Neil had learnt the hard way. Andrew’s smile said that he wanted to carve Neil apart to see just what made him tick, and Neil itched to take a knife and do some carving of his own. But Neil Josten wasn’t violent, or cruel, so he did nothing but sit and wait for Andrew to make his move.

“Now, that’s a bit of a rude assumption to make, don’t you think?” Andrew said, after a few minutes of stunned silence from his family. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you to trust others? Or were they too busy beating on you to teach you that lesson?”  
“They taught me the opposite, actually,” Neil replied, not bothering to keep the venom from his voice. “But it doesn’t take much more than common sense for me not to want to trust you. You never denied it, either. What’s your game?”  
Andrew was quiet for a moment, before taking a stray shot from the table and knocking it back. “Exy.” he deadpanned, before putting the glass back and sliding a knife out from his sleeve. Neil glanced around the club to see if anyone had noticed, but the rest of the club’s patrons were too busy dancing and drinking themselves into oblivion to pay any attention to their table.

“Careful, that’s sharp,” Neil said. “You wouldn’t want to cut yourself with it, it’s a shame how easily accidents like that can happen.”  
Nicky made a strangled noise at Neil’s side, which Andrew responded to with a tired gesture. “Go entertain yourselves somewhere else. The rabbit and I need to talk.”  
The others left the table in favour of heading to the dance floor, leaving Neil to Andrew’s mercy.  
“You see, Josten, I don’t trust you,” Andrew said. “You come in here, with your lies and your secrets, and think that you can get away with it. You’ve even got the rest of the team fooled, I think Matt’s already trying to get together the paperwork to adopt you.” his smile twisted in disgust. “I know better. Renee does, too. You’re dangerous, Josten, and if you don’t give me a good reason to trust you, I won’t let you stay here. Not where you can put what’s mine at risk. Do you understand me?”  
“You still think I’m afraid of you? I thought I told you to take your threats to someone they’ll actually hurt.”  
“Maybe you aren’t afraid of me, but how about the pigs? I wonder what they’d find if I asked them to do some research into you.”

It was Neil’s turn to smile, the expression he’d learnt from Lola so many years ago. A smile that promised pain, if someone didn’t tread carefully. “I can’t imagine they’d find anything interesting, unfortunately. My trail’s clean, because there isn’t anything that needs hiding. Not everyone is out to get you, Minyard. Some of us just like our privacy, and get pissed off when people try to take it away. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”  
It was a bold-faced lie, but Andrew had no way of knowing the blood that soaked Neil’s life. It was a big step up from runaway to serial killer, after all, and few people’s paranoia was strong enough to make that jump. Not even Andrew’s.

“My mother didn’t teach me a whole lot of anything, what with her being six feet under and all,” Andrew replied, unperturbed by Neil’s anger. “Here one moment, gone the next, nobody but her addict of a son to mourn her. Although I think he mourned the loss of his next fix more than her life. I wonder, will your death go so unnoticed, too? There can’t be many people around to mourn a runaway like you.”  
“You’d be surprised,” Neil said, standing and pushing his chair under the table. “It isn’t that easy to get rid of a rabbit, they have a habit of popping up again just when you least expect them to.”  
He paused for a moment to allow that to sink in. “As much as I love these little heart-to-hearts of ours, I’m leaving. I’ll find my own way back to campus, so you have fun now.”

Neil turned, not waiting for a reply, and made his way to the exit via the dancefloor. As he brushed past Nicky, he slipped a quick hand into the other man’s pocket and pulled out the keys to Andrew’s car. Nicky was too drunk, and probably high, too, to notice, and soon Neil was out in the fresh air, leaving Kevin and the cousins to enjoy the rest of their night.  
Stealing the GS was asking for trouble, but revenge was a far closer friend of Neil’s than common sense. He slid into the driver’s seat, stuck the key into the ignition, and made the drive back to Palmetto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neil: im quiet and inconspicious, and i dont want to do anything to get myself on someone's bad side  
> also neil: *antagonises andrew every chance he gets, then proceeds to steal his car*
> 
> the playlist/soundtrack for this fic can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vSO8q4ti8woSPVgVqR5Ru?si=-47yJLqsRBOub723UNDLSg), and my tumblr is @/moreauthedreamer. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! as i said at the start, it's fairly similar to canon so far, but i hope the changes ive made up to this point made it more interesting (:  
> the title of this fic is a lyric from the song 'lakehouse' by of monsters and men, which i now cannot listen to without thinking of dark!neil. it's becoming a problem.  
> the title of this chapter is the song 'californian soil' by london grammar, which i also recommend (it has strong aftg vibes  
> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated !!! and you can find me on tumblr, too (@moreauthedreamer)


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